


Let Justice Be Done

by setosdarkness



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: ArbaGyokuen theories, F/F, Irony, Kou Empire shenanigans, Manga Spoilers, Manipulation, hinted Arba/Sheba too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setosdarkness/pseuds/setosdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Justice is on our side," whispers Arba's voice from deep within her. She believes her, just as she always has.</p><p>[or: the one where Arba manipulates Gyokuen into being possessed]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Justice Be Done

**Author's Note:**

> \- MANGA SPOILERS up until Night 250  
> – This fic operates with the assumption that Arba has possessed Gyokuen and they're basically different people  
> \- [aka Arba seduces Gyokuen into allowing the body possession]  
> \- since we don't know a lot about the characters, possible OOC  
> \- this will possibly be debunked too, but who caresssss  
> \- title is inspired by "Let justice be done, though the heavens fall"

•••

She hails from a poor village in the extreme East, cursed with biting winters and arid land. She has lived her entire life surrounded by poverty, suffering and recently, conflict between the different clans that are fighting over the dry soil and the little agriculture it yields.

She has endured such lack of luxury, but her looks have remained untainted by any sort of suffering. She has always been called the sun of their poor village, just as she has always been relegated to gentler tasks like embroidery of names and prayers upon the sleeves of farmers that strive to make their harvest enough for their village, prayers of success for the men their village can spare to man the uneven borders of their territory.

She doesn't have the luxury of possessing unique names like those women from other villages that have been captured by their aspiring warlords.

She is the fourth-born child of the Mikoshiba village. She has never wished for anything beyond managing to live through another day with as little blood shed onto the entrance of her tweed tent.

But then she meets a man named 'Ren Hakutoku', a charismatic young man who speaks the same language as her, but manages to make it sound as though his words have accompanying peaceful melodies that beckon for their entire village to follow his will.

She wishes she has another name she can call herself, so she can set her apart from the other Mikoshibas in their poor village that is expanding more and more.

That's the last wish she would have for the next couple of months.

•••

Five villages have been annexed successfully to their in just a span of four months, progress that not even years of struggle from their village alone was able to accomplish. Talks of how Ren Hakutoku is much like a god of war become more widespread with each passing day.

Too widespread, in fact, that even clans from the far-away mountains have marched down to meet their expanding border, timed just right for the sixth expedition that has sent Ren Hakutoku away on the opposite direction.

She has lived a relatively long life of mediocre suffering, but she has never actually been unlucky enough to be face-to-face with monstrous men with thick beards and thick axes that are able to chop off all the Mikoshibas left behind by the god of war that has raised the flag of expansion so boldly and arrogantly. She can't help but admire and resent him at the same time, as she nervously twists the embroidered fabric in her hands, her needles and threads and cloths unable to save her from the grinning savages that are eyeing her distastefully, almost as though they're trying to decide which limb of hers should they chop off first.

They've invaded while she's in the middle of embroidering words of prayer to give guidance to the soldiers' paths.

She has always been called the sun of their poor village, a nickname that has stuck even when their village is now a congregation of six villages instead. If only she really is the sun in the sky, hot and bright so she can burn these savages to a crisp.

[ _Do you want power?_ ]

A silky voice resonates in-between the raging pounding of blood in her temples, asking her a question just as she tries to calm her panting voice so that they wouldn't be able to track her down. She's not sure what came over her, when she suddenly fled away, when she suddenly moved automatically, not even caring that her slippers have slipped away and the ground is harsh against her feet. All she knows is that she doesn't want to encounter the same _fate_ as her villagers, as all the other Mikoshibas.

She kneels by a harvest wagon, her eyes wide and her breathing frantic as she scans her surroundings for any traces of the men pursuing her. She doesn't like how they grinned at her like she's a piece of meat that they can't wait to roast over fire. She doesn't like how they're doing as they please when they didn't even attack their mountain fortress.

< _Of course I want power!_ >

She needs power to overcome them, so she can save herself.

A shiver runs down her spine as she hears their heavy footsteps crunch on the rocky road and on the dried twigs. Her gaze falls on the plank of wood displaced from the harvest wagon she's hiding behind. She hears their raucous voices like they've already won, like they have the right to capture everyone they have their sights on and force them to be their concubines and to burn everything down to the ground.

[ _Hmm. Let me help you, then_. ]

She knows that it's probably not normal to have a conversation with some disembodied voice that seems to echo inside her ears, echo from her chest, echo from the tips of her fingers. She touches the plank of wood the length of her forearm, the light color of the wood almost as pale as her skin. She thinks of how there's hardly a Mikoshiba left after their invasion.

< _What should I do_?  >

She feels a flash of comfort envelop her, almost as though arms have gone around her, hugging her by the waist, almost as though a warm cotton blanket has been draped over her shoulders during the harshest winter, almost as though everything will be all right. She has lived a life of mediocre suffering and this is the first moment that she has felt anything approaching this level of _comfort_.

[ _Don't worry. Let me take over_. _Let me administer justice._ ]

She lets her.

•••

When she comes to, the plank of wood is split in two, one end still in her grip, the other embedded right in the middle of the invader's leader's eyes. The pale wood is now dark red with dried blood and her nose twitches at the overpowering scent.

She's surrounded by an unfamiliar sight of corpses strewn about, their beheaded forms forming an almost circle around her, their heads dark with their blood like some unpalatable cabbages.

She's the only Mikoshiba left.

She looks into the eyes of Ren Hakutoku, sees the respect and curiosity in the depths of the god of war's irises.

She looks down on her hands – on her right hand that has splinters sticking out on her index finger, on her left hand that has the leader's eyeballs in her grip, like some demented tokens of recognition of her strength.

She faints.

•••

When she wakes up again, she's in a very lavish bed, silk sheets that she has only dreamed of, cotton pillows that she has only heard about.

Ren Hakutoku is there by the bedside, looking down at her with a gaze only slightly different from the invaders'.

"What's your name, brave warrior?"

[ … _What is your name, hmm?_ ]

She blinks and feels an even more comfortable aura drape all over figure, offering a softness that easily rivals the texture of the silk sheets and cotton pillows.

< _I'm the fourth child born of the Mikoshiba line_.  >

[ _Miko… **sheba**. Hmm. That's not a name, is it?_ ]

She frowns, furrows her brows as she feels the mispronunciation of her village's name resonate from low in her stomach.

Ren Hakutoku is looking at her like he's not quite sure where she gets the courage to ignore him, the so-called god of war.

She will answer him, but only once she irons out the issue with the voice in her head.

< _That's the only one I have._ >

[ _That simply won't do! Not when you're on your way to be a queen_. ]

She flinches visibly – Ren Hakutoku softens his glare as though it's because of him that she has reacted that way.

< _I'm no queen! What are you talking about?!_ >

[ _You've subdued an entire clan of soldiers that even your entire village's force can't even touch. Of course **he** is going to want you to be his queen_. ]

She grips the edges of the silk sheets, then moves her fingers to the hems of her robe, feeling mounting distress when she doesn't feel the embroidered words, the prayers to guide her down the right path.

< _That's all you!_ >

[ _I only did it to grant your wish, little **sheba**_ **.** ]

Her frown grows deeper.

< _Stop calling me that._ >

[ _Let's get you a better name, then. How about **Gyokuen**?_ ]

< … _what does that mean?_ >

[ _It means 'charming jewel'_. ]

She flushes, feeling strange despite hearing words of praise almost her entire life. She thinks it's the delayed settling of her gratitude to the voice inside her head.

"My name is Gyokuen," she says as steadily as she can manage, lifting her gaze to meet Ren Hakutoku's.

"What a lovely name."

She thinks she can see a faint blush high on his cheeks, though that can just be caused by the impulsive nature of their weather – bitter winter interrupted by bouts of fainting-induced summer heat.

[ _It's a lovely name that suits you_. ]

She flushes as well, thinking that her face has heated up to something similar to Hakutoku's. She practically feels a purr of satisfaction rumble from her toes, radiating upwards.

< _What's your name?_ >

[ _You can call me anything you want_. ]

< _I want to thank you properly._ >

[ _If that's the case, it's 'Arba'._ ]

< … _thank you for saving my life, Arba. I'm very grateful._ >

[ _You're welcome, my little jewel._ ]

•••

She doesn't become an outright 'queen' – at least not yet.

She thinks it's due soon, not because she's looking forward to such a thing, but because everything that Arba says ends up coming true one way or another. She thinks it's admirable and amazing and she can't help but consider herself as lucky that she has managed to gain the favor of some magical being like Arba. Arba – who is much more deserving of the title of 'god' than Hakutoku.

She thankfully isn't expected to repeat her monstrous feat of subjugating groups of rebels, armed with just a plank of wood. Part of it is due to Hakutoku's sudden obsession with conducting peaceful negotiations – a useless sentiment, because all of them end up in battle anyway. A bigger part of it is because she's now pregnant with Hakutoku's eldest son.

The battles are not even remotely close to over, but people are already talking very loudly about how Hakutoku is going to become a wonderful and wise king who will rule over the entire eastern continent – which makes his unborn son even more important, because he has large shoes to fill. She's far from impressed, with how the conquered villagers have seemingly forgotten how their own humiliation at the hands of same person they're now touting as the new king, with how Hakutoku could easily reign across battlefields and be praised no matter how thick the layer of blood that is splashed upon his robes.

Arba has made her promise to make sure to stay by this person's side though, has made her promise to not sabotage her chance to attaining a future so bright it can blind anyone else.

She truly doesn't mind Hakutoku's frequent trips away, because they have very little similarities and they rarely talk about anything other than the merits of different sword types, knowledge that is fed to her by Arba's soft, beguiling whispers. What she minds more is Arba's periods of silence – almost as though her presence is suddenly hidden from her – something that she surprisingly can detect. Nowadays, she feels  _empty_ whenever the other isn't around, so used she is to hearing whispers intoned directly into her soul.

[ _You can always tell me to never leave you_. ]

< _…were you hiding from me to force me to admit that I'd rather you here?_ >

[ _…It's exhausting to maintain my consciousness if I'm not completely taking over, so I have to take some breaks every once in a while_. ]

< … _I didn't know that. Would you like to take over now? Will that help?_ >

She frowns as she thinks about other ways she can make things easier for her savior. Hakutoku is due to be gone for a couple more days and it's not like anyone speaks to her often in this base. It's not like they will ever notice that she's not completely herself. It's not like anybody cares.

[ … _would you truly not mind?_ ]

< _Of course I don't!_ >

Her frown grows deeper as she resents the implication that she will even have the gall to be selfish against her savior, her only reason for being inside a lavish base that has people looking at her beyond a simple farm girl bound for a very mediocre life.

[ … _it's just that it's been a thousand years since anybody has allowed me to take over… since you._ ]

She flushes, in a way that's completely different from the heat she feels whenever Hakutoku kisses her. Whenever she's with him, she feels like she's playing a role that's too different from her. Whenever she's conversing with Arba, it almost feels like she has a guardian angel who understands everything about her, even if they're completely different from each other.

< _…take over my body for as long as you need, Arba!_ >

[ … _thank you, my little jewel_. ]

•••

She snaps awake when she hears the sound of steel clashing against steel. She brings a hand over to her mouth, because she always has a nasty case of nausea whenever she wakes up recently – a type of sickness that she has missed during her first pregnancy. Her term with Hakuren is a lot more difficult, since the healers they have consulted have murmured something about her body composition being weird – along with some terms that she didn't really understand.

In any case, she doesn't have room for her nausea and vomiting, because there are frantic footsteps and shouts from practically every corner of the castle.

She hates the way that the intruders always pick the worst time – when Hakutoku is away.

Her stomach rolls when she quickly makes her way to the crib of young Hakuyuu. He's still deeply asleep and she feels her heartbeat escalate when there are cries for mercy that are broken in-between from a couple of doors away. If she lives past this attack, she's going to make sure to remind Hakutoku to designate trustworthy soldiers in his army – none of these useless ones who plea for mercy and get killed anyway.

Quickly, she wraps Hakuyuu in blankets, smoothly embracing him to her chest so that he doesn't wake up. There are dark shadows stretching from outside – visible on the door screen - and the sight makes her speed up her steps toward the massive closet where she plans on hiding Hakuyuu and herself in.

[ … _I'll protect you, my jewel_. ]

< _Thank you, Arba! Let me just hide Hakuyuu—_ >

[ … _would you rather I not show you the aftermath?_ ]

< _…if you would, please_.  >

[ _Do you have a particular request of how I should handle this?_ ]

She smiles, because Arba is too good to her.

< _I'll leave it up to you to administer justice_.  >

Her smile widens when she feels Arba's pleasure from her words wash over her entire body.

[ _You can leave this to me then, my little jewel._ ]

•••

She hasn't spoken with Hakutoku since that incident, which is why she's surprised to learn that she's pregnant with a girl.

[ _He was frightening the other week—he was a bit forceful, so I took over to spare you of the experience_. ]

She should have known.

Arba only ever has her best interests at heart.

She really is too lucky to have someone like her as her guide.

< _That's more than fine, Arba. I did say that you can take over anytime. That hasn't changed._ >

[ _Glad to hear that, my dear jewel_. ]

•••

She thinks that she has missed quite a couple of weeks, but that's fine.

She feels lighter than ever.

She's thankful for the long break, even, because it gave her enough energy to continue smiling through the excessive ceremony to celebrate the establishment of the Kou Empire.

She—

•••

She's surprised to suddenly have one more kid holding on to her hands – she thinks it's Hakuyuu, for a moment, because of the mole, but that can't be.

[ … _His name is Hakuryuu_. ]

< _I missed you, Arba!_ >

•••

She's surprised to be surrounded by veiled magicians, murmuring something about "our father". She feels a trail of fear, something that immediately evaporates when she feels Arba's warm arms wrap around her shoulders, encasing her in an embrace that erases all of her worries.

[ … _Don't worry about anything, my little jewel. Everything we're doing is just_. ]

< … _that's fine then._ >

•••

She doesn't like Koutoku – he reminds her of the savage beasts from the first time that she has met Arba.

She—

[ _I'll handle him for you, if you dislike him so much._ ]

< _Thank you, Arba!_ >

•••

She's surprised by the eerie-looking kid who's wrapped around like a particularly pesky vine around her young Hakuryuu. She can't remember ever seeing him before, but he's frowning at her like she has done something nasty. She returns the shy, little wave that Hakuryuu gives her, which only makes the other kid's expression turn darker. Her little Hakuryuu's hands come up to tug the strange kid's hands though and the icy pressure lifts immediately like nothing out of ordinary has happened.

[ _…He's a strange little kid, isn't he? He's taken a shine to Hakuryuu though_. ]

< _I see a lot of strange people I don't know, Arba._ >

[ _I can make sure I'll be the one to handle them for you._ ]

< _Are you feeling much better, Arba?_ >

Arba's pleasure at her question flows into her psyche, an undeniable reward for her.

[ _I **am**. _ ]

•••

"He's becoming an evil man."

"We need to erase him."

"Burn him."

"No, we need to make him an example of what could happen to evil in this just country of ours."

"What do I need to do," she whispers against her sleeve, embroidered by her own hand with the name _Arba_ in repeating loops.

Her children are off to their own bedrooms, while that evil man is off to some other peace talk that will surely end up in battle. That evil man is planning to strike a peace treaty with Sindria, which is probably just another code for his want to expand his country's territories, at the expense of more strife. She's sick of gaining more enemies, because they all seem to think that it's fun to keep on attacking the castle when it's only her present and Hakutoku is off gallivanting somewhere far away. She's sick of cleaning up his messes for him, of handling these barbarian savages on his behalf, of playing the perfect gentle queen who moonlights as a bloodthirsty night when nobody else is aware.

"We will kill him," Arba whispers back, her voice tickling her exposed nape. Her hair has gotten too long, but as per Arba's request, she hasn't cut it. She even has them done as pretty braids to Arba's liking. "We will take care of him so that nobody else will try to copy him."

"Won't we get punished for killing him?"

"We're killing a wild animal," Arba tells her soothingly, warmth spreading from her neck, to her collarbones. "Don't worry. Justice is on our side."

"If you say so."

•••

She hasn't managed to speak to her children yet, after taking care of the evil man.

They're dear to her, but there's something more pressing.

"There are two traitors that are skulking around."

"Be careful, my jewel."

"They're looking for ways to punish you for that savage man's death."

"But we're just administering justice. For the empire's sake."

"That's why they're traitors."

"They support that evil man's ambitions."

"They're evil too."

"They need to be destroyed too, before their evil can spread."

"Who are they?" She hisses to the sheathed sword in her hands. She has no experience wielding it, but as per Arba's advice, it will do her good to keep it handy. There are veiled magicians guarding the room she's in, so she keeps her words down. She doesn't want them to know of Arba's presence.

"You'll find out soon enough."

"We'll cut them down."

"We will."

"Let's go."

She stands up as per Arba's prompting, an invisible thread tugging her to the direction of the castle wing housing her family's quarters.

She feels fear that she hasn't felt in a very long time.

"Justice is on our side," whispers Arba's voice from deep within her.

Assures her.

She believes her, just as she always has.

Her arms are tired from carrying the sword around.

"Justice is on our side," Arba repeats, her voice echoing into the sword that she's holding, just as she slides the door open to the sight of Hakuyuu and Hakuren poring over scrolls, frowns on their faces. Hakuryuu and Hakuei are asleep a couple of rooms away.

There are two traitors, two supporters of the evil man.

She doesn't think that these two—

But whatever Arba says, comes true.

She doesn't think she can go through with this though.

She pleads for someone to take her away, to turn her life over, maybe—

[ _I'll gladly take over the painful parts for you, my little jewel_. ]

Hakuyuu is shouting at her.

She closes her eyes.

Hakuren calls her a witch.

She closes off her ears.

The sword suddenly feels light, almost as though she's meant to wield it, despite her skinny arms that have never lifted anything heavier than a couple of robes.

She whispers - "Justice is on our side" – but there's no answer.

•••

It feels like she has rested for a very long time.

She feels refreshed.

She misses Arba.

She also misses her children.

She opens her ears to the sounds of her heart pounding.

She opens her eyes to the sight of her child glaring at her, a sword raised high – the same sword that she remembers carrying just yesterday-the other day-the other week-when was it really?

"…Hakuyuu…? …What have I done before…?"

It's Hakuyuu, right? Though he seems to have gotten shorter? And there's a strange teen with a very similar aura as that eerie-looking kid from the other week.

"I'm not falling for that, witch! Now die!"

< — _Arba?_ >

< — _Justice is on our side, right?_ >

< — _Arba!!!_ >

•••  
•••  
•••

< _Why do you keep on calling me **sheba**?  >_

 _[ It's the name of someone I was really fond of before. Do you dislike it?_ ]

< _Not really… but—_ >

[ _Don't worry, I'm very fond you as well, little jewel_. ]

< _…I'm honored that you think of me that way._ >

Perhaps she should have asked what it really meant to gain Arba's fondness.

•••  
•••  
•••

Now that justice has been done, it seems that the heavens will follow.

••• **end**

**Author's Note:**

> \- I'm sorry, I am in love with the idea of Arba being all nice and kind to someone who she ends up being enemies with  
> \- Arba/Gyokuen has a good track record of seducing everyone after all  
> \- Arba/Gyokuen likes to add "little" when addressing/referring to someone [because she's pretty old?]  
> \- Arba admits that she's very, very, very fond of Sheba, which I've exploited to great lengths.  
> \- Hakuei has mentioned that their father was severe with his policies
> 
> Thoughts/comments are more than welcome!!!


End file.
